


as golden as the sun

by gisho



Series: After A Fashion [3]
Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Aarne-Thompson Type 510b, Fairy Tales, Ficlet, Post-Canon, bickering not-siblings, not as creepy as that would imply except via backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 04:34:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gisho/pseuds/gisho
Summary: Wherin Violetta helps Tarvek go through some old clothes.





	as golden as the sun

\---

"I am _not_ working for you any longer. You transferred my allegiance to the Lady Heterodyne." Violetta undoes the three latches, center-left-right, and throws open the trunk before the hidden blade can pop out. It is, of course, full of clothes. "You don't have any claim on my time."

Tarvek blandly answers, "Quite. You're just the only person here who knows how to open my luggage."

She rolls her eyes. " _And_ the only person we could _find_ who knew how to _get into_ your old rooms at Sturmhalten, since all the servants _quit_ after you tried to blow the place up."

"I think that had more to do with the Ghost Ladies trying to kill all witnesses," Tarvek growls.

She - hadn't known that. Erm. It's the sort of horrible nasty thought that makes any response seem callous and inadequate, and Violetta starts yanking out clothes and throwing them on the bed instead of answering. Time to change the subject. 

And here's an obvious target; she holds it up for better inspection. "Mimmoth fur trim on a redingote? Seriously?"

"I'm not wearing it ever again. No point flattering a dead man." Tarvek gives a theatrical shudder. There had been a period, Violetta remembers, where he'd aped Prince Aaronev's horrible dress sense as part of some psychological scheme to get favors from him. "Half the clothes in that trunk I'll probably never wear again. Which does _not_ imply they should just be thrown on the bed like rags, by the way."

"So why are they here?" 

Tarvek throws himself into the armchair in theatrical despair. "Because it was faster packing everything than sorting it there. Are you going to open the rest and fetch me some less _chattery_ minions, or are you going to hang around insulting my fashion choices?"

Violetta surprises herself by saying, "I'll hang around. You need your ego deflated."

"How kind of you to take an interest in my well-being."

"Well, Agatha likes you." Violetta shrugs and starts on the trunk again - of course it doesn't seem to occur to Tarvek to get up and help, laundry must be beneath him, even if he used to unbend his nose enough to make omelets and do dreadful things to coffee. She gets through a layer of coats which are probably too warm for Mechanicsburg, and stops when she pulls out a short brown jacket that wouldn't possibly go over Tarvek's shoulders. "I think they put someone else's things in with yours."

Tarvek does get up at that, and grabs the jacket to squint at it. "No," he says after a few seconds, "this is mine. I just outgrew it ten years ago."

"And you still have it?"

"Why get rid of it? It's not like I had any siblings who needed hand-me-downs." Tarvek shrugs, and sits down again - on the bed this time, making a wrinkled mess of the coats he was complaining she didn't fold properly. Hypocrite. "I should have given it to you. Remember how you used to complain about wearing purple all the time?" 

He smiles at her, as if it's going to charm her, but Violetta is immune to Tarvek's charm through long exposure. "Yes, and you explained it was actually _perfect_ with my skin tone and, more importantly, advertised that I was a Smoke Knight so people would be scared and ignore that I didn't come up to most of their shoulders. I still want a fancy dress for the official celebration, by the way. Not in purple."

"It really does suit you, but as you wish." He waves a hand in airy dismissal. "As soon as Agatha's is designed. Do you have any objection to pale green with gold trim?"

"Green's fine." Violetta tosses another outgrown jacket at him, this one in, hah, purple, with enough bits of red trim and extra gold buttons to make it obvious the wearer wasn't some ordinary _Smoke Knight_ , oh no, purple just happened to be the _family colours_. It lands on his head, and his indignant squawk is a thing of beauty. "Let me guess, you're trying to colour-coordinate everyone?"

The jacket flops to the bed, and Tarvek promptly grabs it again to fold properly. "Not everyone. The Heterodyne and her consorts -" and Violetta would never admit how glad she was to see that smug little smile - "and a few of their closest friends. Not the _same_ green for everyone, of course, but the designs can echo each other."

And now he'll talk about how pintuck pleats evoke an impression of competence and reliability or some such blather, and go on about it until she's bored out of her skull. Violetta contemplates diving into the trunk to escape. But for some reason Tarvek doesn't; instead he's frowning at the jacket, and after a few moments he fishes something out of the hidden pocket. "I forgot about these," he says to himself.

Violetta leans in to get a better look. It's - a walnut shell. He's holding a walnut shell. 

Alright, that's weird even by Tarvek's standards. Violetta reaches out a finger to tap it, in case it's rigged to do something interesting and Tarvek will have to stop her. It doesn't, and it feels like an ordinary walnut shell. "What exactly did you forget about?"

His sudden answering grin is more Sparky than smug. "How would you like a pretty dress right now, this very instant? If it fits you," he adds, "but I think there's a good chance. You're so tiny."

"And you're so stabbable. Gimme." But Tarvek is already pressing what must be a hidden latch, and the shell falls open on a tiny internal hinge. 

It looks like a little scrap of fabric rolled up. Then he yanks on it, and more fabric than could possibly have fit in the shell comes out. Deep gold satin, it looks like, with abstract embroidery in nearly the same colour, a style that Violetta doesn't remember being popular in their lifetimes. Tarvek gives one last tug and a shake, and somehow he's holding up a complete gown, with long bishop sleeves, scoop neck, and a barely-fitted empire waist. It would, Violetta gauges, hang just above her ankles if she put it on. 

Which she's suddenly reluctant to do. "Sparkwork?"

"Just a little." He shrugs. "I was going through a fairy-tale phase, I wondered if it was even possible to fit a ballgown in a walnut shell."

Violetta lifts the gown away. It's so light and drapes so easily, there can't possibly be a lining, and if Anevka ever put this thing on Violetta will eat her hypothetical hat. Anevka liked her clothes with _structure_ , and lots of hidden pockets for knives. 

It is pretty, though. She only considers for a few more seconds before she starts on the buckles of her tunic. "Close your eyes."

The gown is tight in the bodice and for a horrible second Violetta thinks she's ripped it pulling it on, but tight in the bodice isn't a bad thing if she's wearing it in front of men. Most men. The skirt is loose enough she doesn't bother taking her trousers off. She coughs meaningfully, and Tarvek slowly lowers his hands from his eyes. 

Five seconds. Ten.

"Well?"

"It's gorgeous on you," her cousin says, sounding hoarse and wistful. "Just your colour."

"Mm." Violetta does an experimental twirl, and the skirt spins out and flutters like it weighs nothing at all. "I like it."

Tarvek's expression sharpens into a wicked grin. "You won't be needing the green one for the party, then?"

"After everything I put up with from you? I think you owe me at least a dozen fancy gowns." Violetta plants her hands on her hips. "No more than one of them purple."

"Of course. Thank you," he adds, still grinning, "for volunteering as my experimental subject. I promise none of them will actually catch fire. Now are you finishing unpacking, or swanning off to show that thing off to Von Zinzer?"

Violetta rolls her eyes. "It's nice," she says, "but it's not really practical for day wear."

"Well, no. Wasn't the point."

"Make sure the green gown has pockets," Violetta informs him, but as always she softens a little at the fond look in Tarvek's eyes. And, well. There'll be a lot of Sparks at the celebration. "That way I can carry this one for an emergency backup."

\---


End file.
